Free The Hierophant (Book 1 in The Arcana Series) by Madeline Claire Franklin

sleeveless number, heavily embroidered at the hem and bust with gold thread, with tiny mirrors sewn into the scrollwork. Even with the short canvas jacket she wears over her arms, she looks like a dreadlocked Indian princess, observing her subjects from her balcony.
    I lean over the rail, much less interestingly dressed in the clothes I came over to her house in: dark grey skinny jeans and silver ballet flats, and a cobalt blue button-down cotton shirt, buttoned perhaps a notch lower than is practical against the chill. My feet swing in the air as I balance on my abdomen, staring down into the dark where I’m pretty certain I just saw people smoking a joint—at least I smelled it, and saw the glowing red point of an ember. But these days? Knowing me? It could have been anything. Still, convincing myself it’s just some punks from school, I want to shout something down at them, something that seems clever under the rosy fog of the various beverages I’ve been drinking—but when I look more closely, all I see are shadows.
    “So?” Kyla asks, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me back to my feet before I flip myself over the railing.
    “So what?” I wonder, and take another sip from my bottle. The wine is tart and astringent, cool and warm at the same time as it slides down my throat.
    Kyla gives me a mischievous grin. “Have you seen anyone here you might want to go to the dance with?”
    I grimace and look around at all the faces, some familiar, some not, none of them stirring anything inside of me. “I don’t know. I can’t even tell who’s single anyway. Listen, I don’t need a date, Ky. If you really want me to go, I’ll go. I just won’t—”
    “Don’t even,” Kyla stops me, holding a hand up. “Do not tell me you’re going to come to a dance, and not dance.”
    I laugh again, because everything Kyla says is even funnier than normal when I’m a little tipsy. “I was going to say I just won’t slow dance.”
    Kyla shakes her head. “Not acceptable.”
    “Ky, even if I picked some random face from this whole crowd and he actually wanted to be my date for the dance, I probably wouldn’t want to slow dance with him.” I gesture grandly, encompassing the yard. “Slow dancing is supposed to be intimate, not something you share with a total stranger. Or some guy you met at a party, and maybe drunkenly made out with. I mean, unless you’re into that. Which I’m not. Anymore.” I pause, thoughts catching up with my words. “I’m rambling.”
    Kyla laughs. Her eyes actually sparkle when she laughs, not just glisten—it’s like tiny diamonds have been placed under the dark surface of the pools of her irises. “What about Andy?” She points to the tall figure holding court beside the fire.
    He’s everywhere tonight. “Seriously?” I scoff.
    “Well, he’s tall enough, right? And he’s always been super nice to you.”
    “Compared to the rest of the seniors, yeah.” I think about running into him and Trebor last night and feel guilty. I haven’t told Kyla about the man in the cemetery; I haven’t told her about the man with the flashing eyes that I saw the other night, or how Trebor’s eyes flash the same way. I haven’t told her that the Sura are talking to me now, and that they know my name. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but I know that every time I think of telling her about these new developments, my stomach twists itself into knots, as if these things might be what push her over the edge and finally make her say Ana, you’re insane.
    I clear my throat. “Anyway, it’s only been to get on your good side. You know that as well as I do.”
    Her brow furrows. “I don’t know. I’m out and proud, and Andy practically set Vanessa and me up on our first date.”
    I squint at Andy from a distance. “Ky, I know it hasn’t escaped your notice that most of your friends could care less if I continued to exist. I don’t think Andy is really an exception, other than to study my